


By the Grace of the Everlight

by JayofOlympus



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, First Meetings, Found Family, Gen, Pike's Healing, Pre-Stream (Critical Role)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24272830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayofOlympus/pseuds/JayofOlympus
Summary: That day in the Bramblewood changed everything.
Relationships: Grog Strongjaw & Pike Trickfoot
Comments: 7
Kudos: 55





	By the Grace of the Everlight

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for the Critical Role fandom, but I went and had Feelings about Grog for two and a half pages, and this was the result. I hope you enjoy it.

Grog stared up at the darkening sky and waited to die. He had little other choice. After the herd had left him, bloodied and broken, he had tried to stand, but his arms refused to cooperate, and his legs had buckled beneath him, and his chest burned with pain.

He hoped he'd stop feeling it soon, but thinking about how much pain he was in meant he didn't have to think about the look in Kevdak's eyes when he'd turned on Grog, or the way the herd had walked away without any of them ever looking back. He didn't have to think about how dumb he was for ever thinking that talking back to Kevdak would ever end any other way. How dumb he was for still being relieved that the little old gnome had disappeared once the herd had started beating Grog instead.

He heard something in the distance, and bit his lip to keep from whimpering. He was going to die, but he wanted to die bravely (he was pointedly ignoring the tears on his face, because he definitely wasn't crying). Grog could only lay there and wait while his mind came up with a hundred possibilities for what the noise was. Kevdak coming back to finish him off? Some scavenging beasts that would wait until he was too weak to fight them before they started to feast on him? Wolves that wouldn’t bother to wait?

"Just up here," a voice said, and Grog's quickly spiraling thoughts were cut short by two tiny figures appearing in his peripheral vision. The world was starting to go dark at the edges, but he was pretty sure that one of them was the old gnome man.

"Oh boy, he doesn't look so good," the other tiny figure said.

Grog's last conscious thought was that something appeared to be glowing.

* * *

Grog was jolted awake by someone hauling him upright, and he cried out in both pain and alarm, his muddled brain sure that Kevdak was back for him.

“You’re alright, lad,” a voice said from near his knee, “We’ll get you healed up right quick, but we’ll need to get you someplace a little more comfortable first.”

Grog was somewhat startled to find that the voice belonged to the old gnome man. It was a little difficult to see him properly, since his vision was still a little fuzzy, and night had fallen on the forest, but the gnome seemed to be smiling up at him, which made Grog wonder how exactly he had managed to get upright. It was hard to concentrate on anything for long, though.

“You’re a heavy one,” someone said to the right of him, and Grog rolled his head to the side to see a human propping him up, his arm thrown over the man’s shoulders. That was all that registered in his mind before they started moving and the pain caused him to black out again.

* * *

When he woke again, he was under a roof. If he was being honest, it was a little strange that he was awake at all, never mind waking up indoors. He wasn’t in as much pain as he expected to be either, which was weird too.

A tiny, freckled face appeared above him, a concerned frown framed by dark hair.

"Don't move," the tiny face said. "You were really hurt. I gotta sleep a little before I can try to heal you again, and you've still got some broken bones."

"Wha-" Grog grunted, confused by the flurry of words.

"Sorry, I forgot! You've been asleep, so I never got to tell you my name," the tiny face babbled. "I'm Pike. Pike Trickfoot. You're in my Pop Pop's house right now. He says you saved him!”

“Did I?” Grog asked. He didn’t _think_ he’d saved anybody.

Pike’s nose scrunched up in thought. She was _really_ small, Grog thought.

“Well, you didn’t let him get beat up, even though it meant you _did_ get beat up,” she said, tugging at a curl. “So, yeah, I think you did save him.”

Right. He’d done that. It was pretty cool that he’d saved somebody.

Pike was still staring at him. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“Grog Strongjaw,” he replied, blinking at her.

“Well, Grog, it’s good to meet you,” she said, grinning all of a sudden. “Thanks for saving my Pop Pop. I think this makes us friends.”

“Friends?” The closest thing Grog had ever had to a friend was Zanror, and Zanror was _not_ his friend. But having a friend sounded fun, especially if the herd was gone.

“Yep, you’re my buddy now, Grog,” Pike said, her bright smile too infectious for Grog to keep from smiling too.

“And you’re my buddy too, Pike.”

* * *

Years later, after demons, and dragons, and a defeated god, when Grog had more friends and allies than he could count, he would look back that day in the Bramblewood and know, without a doubt, that saving Wilhand had been the smartest decision he had ever made.

He was stronger than Kevdak could ever have hoped to be. He and his friends were heroes that had saved the entirety of Exandria, and were renowned across Tal’Dorei as the saviours of Emon. His best buddy, Pike, was the Champion of Sarenrae.

He never would have done any of those things if he’d stayed with the herd. He wouldn’t be nearly as strong as he’d become if he hadn’t ever met Vox Machina, and he certainly wouldn’t have found such happiness without Pike by his side.


End file.
